INSIDE THE PERVERTED MIND OF DOUGIE POYNTER 2
by OFFICIAL CHOPS WRITING
Summary: Dougie is back for another round with the McFLY gang! Join him on another book of misadventures, hijink, mischief! In another instalment we follow Dougie through his daily life, observing how he feels about his bandmates, city and life, people in general.
1. Chapter 1

INSIDE THE PERVERTED MIND OF DOUGIE POYNTER 2:

OVER DRAMATIC AND OUT OF CONTROL

CHAPTER ONE: MONDAY

Another new journal already. It's hard to believe, it feels as if it was only yesterday that I was scribbling nasty things in my old one. I fancy this new notebook even more than my old one, though. It's a blue metallic with my name on it. Tom got it for me when he was out shopping. As much as it kills me to admit this, this time he really had style. Now only if he could put that style into his wardrobe. A plaid shirt with a yellow tie is not fashion. I am not saying that I am the fashion police or anything. Those assholes piss me off; especially that Stacy cunt and that Clinton douche. Now those are two people who need to be strapped into chairs and beaten with car mufflers. I heard about those two worthless cocksuckers online. Apparently, they have some kind of fashion show. I've seen the show, and let me tell you folks, I wouldn't even wipe my ass with it. They suck at dressing people, they can't even dress themselves for fuck's sake! The things that they consider, "trendy" and "stylish" I wouldn't even wear in the privacy of my own bedroom. I hate those assholes, even though I do watch the show from time to time. Such shit on American tv, no wonder the country is going to shit. They take advice from assholes like that! Goddamn. I am happy that we don't have shows like that; we have shit, don't get me wrong, but at least I don't have to see Stacy and Clinton. Such a positive way to start off a new journal.

.....

Tom was reading what I wrote in here! What the fuck? I thought that he was all about privacy and all that shit. It was all a fuckin' show and a dance. I walked into my room when I caught him fingering my notebook. "What the hell are you doing fuck-touch?!" He sets my notebook down on my bed. "Nothing. Why did you write such nasty shit? I thought that I told you your new notebook was to record your thoughts, not shit bomb everybody." "Those are the kind of thoughts that I have , Tom. If you don't like the kind of things that I think, then keep your beak out of my shit." Tom gives me a look; he looks like my mum when he gives me that face. "Do you really think that I look dumb?" "Yes, Tom. That stupid plaid shirt and tie shit that you do really annoys me." "Is that all?" "Yes." That is all that I can think if to tell him! I'm sure that I will have more thoughts on his bogus fashion sense later. "That's good to know." He says finally. "I'm surprised that I didn't find a much more graphic entry in there." Tom doesn't know me like he thinks he does. I am not full of just fuck offs and blow mes. "I will leave you to your thoughts, then." Tom leaves, closing the door behind him.

Now that he is gone, I can go back to writing nasty thoughts in my notebook. He thought that I was going to use it for the greater good and now I am using it to destroy everyone that I hate. HA HA HA HA!! Now that Tom has pissed me off, I can continue on writing my thoughts about him. What haven't I covered yet? Those fuckin' glasses he wears! Jesus! Who the fuck does he think he is with those little horn-rimmed glasses? He looks like a gay. Light in the loafers, whatever you want to call it. I hate to be seen in public when he has that yellow tie, plaid shirt and the glasses look going on. Did I mention the pants that he wears with the rest of that ensemble? He wears pants so tight that you can see his ball bag. What I want to know is how he gets into those pants! They are skin tight! And they come to the area above his ankles. And to top off his ensemble, he wears high wooly socks with checkered Vans sneakers. Then there was this one time that he had a pair of jeans that was so tight, his ass had cleavage. Yeah, you heard me. HE HAD ASS CLEAVAGE! I'm gonna go throw up now. And when I am finished with that I am gonna toss all the shit Tom has in his wardrobe into the bin outside.

Back to the subject of clothes, you'll never believe what just happened! Danny and I were on our way back from coffee when a small child came up to Danny and said, "I like your pants. They are all sparkly! I have a pair of pants like that at home. Where did you buy them?" I had to hold onto a post box to keep myself from falling over. "Isn't that nice?" Is all that Danny can say to the small girl. Yes, a small girl said that to him. As soon as we got home I raced to Tom and Harry and told then what happened. I thought that Harry's spleen was going to explode he was laughing so hard. Mother of God! Even Tom joined in on the obnoxious laughter party and he usually doesn't RSVP it. Danny didn't find it too cute. He clonked all of our heads together and huffed off to his room. Really, what was that for? It was funny. I know that he would laugh if that happened to me.

And then he would have rang all his dim-witted mates and told them about the incident. I don't want to hear any shit from him. He knows that he is calling the kettle black. And if he doesn't I think that I should sent my foot up his ass to remind him of what he is doing. You know, to be a good mate. I should write a book of advice. What do you think? I think that it would work out rather well. I think I will call it "Advice Given From A Giant Asshole." I bet it would be on the New York Time's best seller list and I don't even live in New York City! That is how good book will be. I must go now, Tom is telling me to quit diddling myself and help out with dinner. Bothers. Doesn't have have servants for this kind of shit?

....

I have made the best invention ever! All of the lonely blokes in the world are going to thank me as soon as the idea goes international. It's one of those ideas to help you avoid a night of no romance. You have a mattress with a hole cut in it and the hole is filled with lotion. You fuck the mattress, but it doesn't feel like you are fucking a mattress, it feels real. And the best part of the whole thing is, when you are gettin' your groove on with your mattress, it sounds as if you are fucking someone. The bed moves and makes moaning noises for you. It sounds so real that you can fool all your mates into thinking that you are getting some. I should know, I tried it out last night.

It was about 10 p.m when I got the horny horn calling. I needed to get off, but I wanted to think of a more creative way to wank it. I didn't want to have a hand party, so I had to think of other ways to get myself off. Asking Danny to put a blind fold on and jerk me off is not an option. We did that once and it was really awkward; Especially when Tom caught us. I will go into details on that later.

I look around the room in search of something. I glance at the bed. What if I fuck the bed? Is that really possible? There is only one way to find out. I dive for the bed with a steak knife in hand. I happened to have a knife in my bedroom because I had dinner up here last night. I thought I'd tell you in case you were wondering. I cut a perfect hole in the mattress and look into the hole. Ooh, I don't want my dick rubbing up against material like that. What to do? I can't just leave the mattress with a huge fuckin' hole in it. Then it hits me that I would need lubrication because this thing doesn't have any. I remember the lotion that I bought a few weeks ago and pour some into the hole. I rub it around with my fingers. I'm making myself even harder by doing this. If my dick gets any harder, I think that it is gonna break off. I am pulling my fingers out of the hole when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Oh, God in Heaven don't let me get caught!

Thankfully, the footsteps go past my room. There's a first. I thought that I was going to be caught fingering my mattress. What would the gang say to that? I don't even want to think like that. I unzip my pants and get ready for action. I'm just about to get myself inside of the hole when I hear Danny's tv turn on. IT"S FUCKIN' LOUD!! I don't want to say anything and risk having him come in here. I ignore it and get back to business. This is AWESOME!! And I didn't have to do any work to get such great pleasure! I think that it is why this feels so goddamn good. I'm getting into my routine, but with each pelvic thrust the bed bumps against the wall. I've put too much into this to stop now! The bed keeps on bumping as I keep on thrusting.

"Quit fuckin' the mattress! I'm trying to watch the fuckin' tv!!" I hear Danny shout from the other room. "I'm not fuckin' the mattress!" I call back. The volume on the tv has been muted; that is not a good sign. "What are you doing in there?" "I can't have sex in this house anymore?!" There is a silence from Danny. I pull out my tape player and slip in "Alone Time Pleasure." It's just a tape of women moaning to help a guy get off. I turn it up and go back to my thrusting. I think Danny is gonna buy this one! "Well, keep it the fuck down! You sound like two apes humping or something!" The volume goes back up on the tv. HOORAY! I outwitted Danny. I'd better knock this scrade up before someone walks into my room. Other than Danny's little interruption, I think the whole thing went over really well.

-THE THOMAS EDISON OF THE CENTURY, DOUGIE POYNTER


	2. Chapter 2

INSIDE THE PERVERTED MIND OF DOUGIE POYNTER 2:

CHAPTER TWO: TUESDAY

There is nothing to do today. I need to think of a good way to waste some time. I know! I'll waste time by going into the bathroom and pretending to take a shit. I can sit there in the comfort of the bathroom while I read a book or something. Where do I come up with this shit? I don't know, but my ass is going to thank me. It really likes the comfort of that seat. Not that I blame it. Who's ass can resist a toilet seat? Well, I know my ass doesn't like it if Tom was there first. He keeps the seat really warm, and I like it luke warm when I sit down on it. I also don't like it when Harry uses it. He leaves hair all over the seat. I sit down and it's like sitting on a fur coat. Really, I am surprised that he has any hair down there. And Danny, he moves the seat all around and shit. He angles it so he can look out the door and watch the telly while taking a shit. I don't appreciate that. Okay? Just a little snacks for thought there.

I look around the corner; the coast is clear. I make a straight for the loo. I hear Harry and Danny arguing in the living room. They are arguing over who used the last of the baby oil. I don't want to know. I open the door and slam it shut. Thank God, that Tom installed a lock on the door. In a rare moment he had an outburst of common sense that came in handy.

Ah, private time. I pull my pants off, just in case those assholes downstairs decide to break down the door. I don't think that being caught taking a shit with your pants on would go over well with any of them. And if they caught me taking a fake shit, Tom would take me to have my head examined. Those can be fun outings though. I remember this one time that he took me because I jumped into the hot tub covered in chocolate. It took him forever to clean the filter. I offered to clean it when I got home from the mental ward, but he told me that he doesn't need me to fuck it up. Me fuck something up? That is a laugh. A laugh riot.

Damn, this seat is comfy! I wonder if I could have little heaters installed in the seat for those chilly mornings. I will have to ask Mr. Fix-It to take a look. Speaking of Danny, he said that I could have his bicycle! I am gonna pimp it out and ride around town with it. It will be a babe magnet when I'm finished with it. I'd ask Danny to help me with it, but I don't think that he ever wants to see another bike again after what happened to him. Not that I blame him. I would probably feel the same way. I wonder how his balls healed up. I'll ask him as soon as I am done wasting time in here.

I've only been in the can for 15 minutes when there is pounding at the door. "Who the fuck is it?!" I can't believe that I am being bothered. I haven't even gotten to act two of "Hamlet" and they are already knocking. "It's Harry! Let me in! I really have to go!" "You have to go? This is the wrong door. Try the one with the plants next to it." He pounds even harder. "You get out of there right goddamn now! I don't have time for this!" He tries the door handle. "Unlock this fuckin' thing before I kick it down!!" He's really angry now. Should I push him to his limits? I should. "What do you need to be in here for? I just came in." "Came in my testicle! You have been in there for like 20 minutes! Are you giving birth in there?" Even though I should be pissed at his question, I must admit that it's good. I didn't think that Harry could come up with something like that. He must have been reading his asshole's handbook. I know that I have mine on me at all times. Why though? I'm the author, producer and marketer of the book.

Before I can say anything else, Harry's fist comes through the door and reaches for the handle. HOLY SHIT!! I didn't expect that! He unlocks the door and opens it. "Are you taking a shit in here or what?" He looks at me. "Uh, yeah." He raises an eyebrow. "Really?" "Yeah, I am taking a fake shit." Harry's sideburns nearly blow off. "What?" "I'm taking a fake shit." "What the fuck are you talking about? How can you take a fake shit?" "You just sit on the can with your reading material, pants off and everything. The only difference is that you aren't taking a shit." Harry scratches his head. "Hold on. Let me get this straight. You have been in here all this time pretending to take a shit. Is this correct?" "Yep." Harry looks like he's about to kill me. "Oh, look at the time. I really must go!" I pull my pants up and race out the door with my book. That was a close one!

....

Being in the circus didn't work out, if I didn't mention that earlier. I'm afraid of heights and I don't want to see guys walking around in spandex. I see enough spandex when Tom gets his out to do a workout tape. I think that I have spoken about this before. Yeah, I have. So, since that idea is out, my newest career idea is to become a professional friend. Yep. You heard me. Danny tells me that I am a good chum all the time, so I figured, what the fuck? I'll become a professional friend. All I have to do is go to the pictures, shop and chit-chat with someone and get paid to do it! That sounds like my kind of work. I have loads of experience in this area. Ask Danny, Tom and Harry. I'm sure that they all will put in the good word for me. Especially Tom. He wants me to get a fuckin' job. But I know that he really just wants me out of the house. It would be my pleasure to get out of his way. I don't need him sticking his magnifying glass up my ass trying to see what I have been up to. It will be a nice vacation for my asshole. I will have to check the job section of the paper to see if there are any openings.

....

For the love of Danny's mum's knickers. Tom wants us to go camping. CAMPING! Can you believe this? Fucking camping!! Who does he think we are? The Brady Bunch? Goddamn. The last time that I went camping I nearly died! Is he trying to kill me? The only good side to this whole thing is that Tom could be eaten by a bear. We are going camping in Vermont. I don't know what is so goddamn special about that place, but we are heading off. Tom wants to experience "The Great Outdoors" or some shit like that. What's wrong with camping in London? Sure there is not a lot of trees, but fuck, we can make do.

Tom says that this camping shit is going to be relaxing and fun. Oh yeah, taking a shit in a bush is fun and relaxing. Nothing like having your dick caught in a bush of thorns. I can tell that I am not the only one who is having doubts about going on this trip. A few moments ago, I caught Danny talking to God on a walkie-talkie praying that Tom getting the shits so we can't go. You know what would be even better than that? Tom getting the shits while we're out camping! Just the thought of him trying not to back his ass into a thorn bush while having the runs is enough to put me into a fit of hysterics. I better stop on this part now or I'll start laughing and Scout Master Douche Bag will venture over to see what I have written. I need Tom in her poking around in my notebook again, like I need my ball bag to be set on fire. Harry on the other hand is really excited for the trip. He's like "BRING IT THE FUCK ON!!" I wonder how many times he was hit in the head by a football. That would explain a lot of the things that he does.

We are only going to be gone a week, but I already have all the hotels in the area on speed dial, just in case. Did I mention that I have to sleep in a fucking tent? A tent! A thin piece of used jockstrap to protect me from the elements. Sweet Christ, don't I feel safe? Did I mention the highlight of the trip yet? Tom wants us to go canoeing. Oh, brilliant. Going out in a boat the size of a postage stamp made out of old dental dams. I hope they have fuckin' life vests. If not I can always fill a pair of Tom's boxers with Rice Krispies. Then I can float around in the middle of fuckin' nowhere until some redneck rescues me. I have done a lot of research in the redneck department. I want to be prepared to face these beer drinking assholes.

I will not be corn-holed in the woods. I will plan my escape route as soon as I see a map of the river. With my luck I will make it to a nearby farm house, where I will be fucked in the ass with a cow's udder. You have to think of these kind of situations! You never know when something like this could happen to you. Tom thinks that I am just being negative about the whole thing. Fuck him! Apparently being aware of the possibilities of the things that could go wrong on this adventure is negative. I'd like to hear his thoughts on this as soon as some redneck with a gun jumps out from behind an oak tree and tells Tom that he has to suck him off or he'll get his testicles blown off. HA HA HA HA I really amuse myself. Oh shit, Tom is giving me that look again. I must go and start packing or else I will never hear the end of it. Danny and I are going to pack our beer scooters, so it will be a fun excursion.

-SCOUTMASTER DOUGIE POYNTER


	3. Chapter 3

INSIDE THE PERVERTED MIND OF DOUGIE POYNTER 2:

CHAPTER TWO: TUESDAY

There is nothing to do today. I need to think of a good way to waste some time. I know! I'll waste time by going into the bathroom and pretending to take a shit. I can sit there in the comfort of the bathroom while I read a book or something. Where do I come up with this shit? I don't know, but my ass is going to thank me. It really likes the comfort of that seat. Not that I blame it. Who's ass can resist a toilet seat? Well, I know my ass doesn't like it if Tom was there first. He keeps the seat really warm, and I like it luke warm when I sit down on it. I also don't like it when Harry uses it. He leaves hair all over the seat. I sit down and it's like sitting on a fur coat. Really, I am surprised that he has any hair down there. And Danny, he moves the seat all around and shit. He angles it so he can look out the door and watch the telly while taking a shit. I don't appreciate that. Okay? Just a little snacks for thought there.

I look around the corner; the coast is clear. I make a straight for the loo. I hear Harry and Danny arguing in the living room. They are arguing over who used the last of the baby oil. I don't want to know. I open the door and slam it shut. Thank God, that Tom installed a lock on the door. In a rare moment he had an outburst of common sense that came in handy.

Ah, private time. I pull my pants off, just in case those assholes downstairs decide to break down the door. I don't think that being caught taking a shit with your pants on would go over well with any of them. And if they caught me taking a fake shit, Tom would take me to have my head examined. Those can be fun outings though. I remember this one time that he took me because I jumped into the hot tub covered in chocolate. It took him forever to clean the filter. I offered to clean it when I got home from the mental ward, but he told me that he doesn't need me to fuck it up. Me fuck something up? That is a laugh. A laugh riot.

Damn, this seat is comfy! I wonder if I could have little heaters installed in the seat for those chilly mornings. I will have to ask Mr. Fix-It to take a look. Speaking of Danny, he said that I could have his bicycle! I am gonna pimp it out and ride around town with it. It will be a babe magnet when I'm finished with it. I'd ask Danny to help me with it, but I don't think that he ever wants to see another bike again after what happened to him. Not that I blame him. I would probably feel the same way. I wonder how his balls healed up. I'll ask him as soon as I am done wasting time in here.

I've only been in the can for 15 minutes when there is pounding at the door. "Who the fuck is it?!" I can't believe that I am being bothered. I haven't even gotten to act two of "Hamlet" and they are already knocking. "It's Harry! Let me in! I really have to go!" "You have to go? This is the wrong door. Try the one with the plants next to it." He pounds even harder. "You get out of there right goddamn now! I don't have time for this!" He tries the door handle. "Unlock this fuckin' thing before I kick it down!!" He's really angry now. Should I push him to his limits? I should. "What do you need to be in here for? I just came in." "Came in my testicle! You have been in there for like 20 minutes! Are you giving birth in there?" Even though I should be pissed at his question, I must admit that it's good. I didn't think that Harry could come up with something like that. He must have been reading his asshole's handbook. I know that I have mine on me at all times. Why though? I'm the author, producer and marketer of the book.

Before I can say anything else, Harry's fist comes through the door and reaches for the handle. HOLY SHIT!! I didn't expect that! He unlocks the door and opens it. "Are you taking a shit in here or what?" He looks at me. "Uh, yeah." He raises an eyebrow. "Really?" "Yeah, I am taking a fake shit." Harry's sideburns nearly blow off. "What?" "I'm taking a fake shit." "What the fuck are you talking about? How can you take a fake shit?" "You just sit on the can with your reading material, pants off and everything. The only difference is that you aren't taking a shit." Harry scratches his head. "Hold on. Let me get this straight. You have been in here all this time pretending to take a shit. Is this correct?" "Yep." Harry looks like he's about to kill me. "Oh, look at the time. I really must go!" I pull my pants up and race out the door with my book. That was a close one!

....

Being in the circus didn't work out, if I didn't mention that earlier. I'm afraid of heights and I don't want to see guys walking around in spandex. I see enough spandex when Tom gets his out to do a workout tape. I think that I have spoken about this before. Yeah, I have. So, since that idea is out, my newest career idea is to become a professional friend. Yep. You heard me. Danny tells me that I am a good chum all the time, so I figured, what the fuck? I'll become a professional friend. All I have to do is go to the pictures, shop and chit-chat with someone and get paid to do it! That sounds like my kind of work. I have loads of experience in this area. Ask Danny, Tom and Harry. I'm sure that they all will put in the good word for me. Especially Tom. He wants me to get a fuckin' job. But I know that he really just wants me out of the house. It would be my pleasure to get out of his way. I don't need him sticking his magnifying glass up my ass trying to see what I have been up to. It will be a nice vacation for my asshole. I will have to check the job section of the paper to see if there are any openings.

....

For the love of Danny's mum's knickers. Tom wants us to go camping. CAMPING! Can you believe this? Fucking camping!! Who does he think we are? The Brady Bunch? Goddamn. The last time that I went camping I nearly died! Is he trying to kill me? The only good side to this whole thing is that Tom could be eaten by a bear. We are going camping in Vermont. I don't know what is so goddamn special about that place, but we are heading off. Tom wants to experience "The Great Outdoors" or some shit like that. What's wrong with camping in London? Sure there is not a lot of trees, but fuck, we can make do.

Tom says that this camping shit is going to be relaxing and fun. Oh yeah, taking a shit in a bush is fun and relaxing. Nothing like having your dick caught in a bush of thorns. I can tell that I am not the only one who is having doubts about going on this trip. A few moments ago, I caught Danny talking to God on a walkie-talkie praying that Tom getting the shits so we can't go. You know what would be even better than that? Tom getting the shits while we're out camping! Just the thought of him trying not to back his ass into a thorn bush while having the runs is enough to put me into a fit of hysterics. I better stop on this part now or I'll start laughing and Scout Master Douche Bag will venture over to see what I have written. I need Tom in her poking around in my notebook again, like I need my ball bag to be set on fire. Harry on the other hand is really excited for the trip. He's like "BRING IT THE FUCK ON!!" I wonder how many times he was hit in the head by a football. That would explain a lot of the things that he does.

We are only going to be gone a week, but I already have all the hotels in the area on speed dial, just in case. Did I mention that I have to sleep in a fucking tent? A tent! A thin piece of used jockstrap to protect me from the elements. Sweet Christ, don't I feel safe? Did I mention the highlight of the trip yet? Tom wants us to go canoeing. Oh, brilliant. Going out in a boat the size of a postage stamp made out of old dental dams. I hope they have fuckin' life vests. If not I can always fill a pair of Tom's boxers with Rice Krispies. Then I can float around in the middle of fuckin' nowhere until some redneck rescues me. I have done a lot of research in the redneck department. I want to be prepared to face these beer drinking assholes.

I will not be corn-holed in the woods. I will plan my escape route as soon as I see a map of the river. With my luck I will make it to a nearby farm house, where I will be fucked in the ass with a cow's udder. You have to think of these kind of situations! You never know when something like this could happen to you. Tom thinks that I am just being negative about the whole thing. Fuck him! Apparently being aware of the possibilities of the things that could go wrong on this adventure is negative. I'd like to hear his thoughts on this as soon as some redneck with a gun jumps out from behind an oak tree and tells Tom that he has to suck him off or he'll get his testicles blown off. HA HA HA HA I really amuse myself. Oh shit, Tom is giving me that look again. I must go and start packing or else I will never hear the end of it. Danny and I are going to pack our beer scooters, so it will be a fun excursion.

-SCOUTMASTER DOUGIE POYNTER


End file.
